


Friends With Benefits

by wildwordwomyn



Series: Friends With Benefits [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-15
Updated: 2007-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwordwomyn/pseuds/wildwordwomyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Friends with benefits' is an implied contradiction in terms. Jensen knows this first-hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends With Benefits

“Jay, no.” You push him away but the fucker keeps coming back like a bad rash. “Jay-.”

“Jen,” he whines pitifully. “Come on…Please?” And then he pulls the puppy dog face.

You really have the best of intentions tonight. Every night. To walk away. Go back to being _just_ friends. No more benefits because the truth is he has a girlfriend. One he loves. As in _loves_ loves. Meaning you should no longer be in the picture. You have no right to get jealous when she calls and his face lights up. You have no right to plant inconspicuous little hickeys on his hip bones out of spite. You especially have no right to be here in his bed with your dick in his mouth. You, if you were a better, stronger man, wouldn’t have gotten into such a situation to begin with. But since you’re being honest you have to admit that he gives the best head, that his fingers fit perfectly around your ass cheeks, that his hair simply doesn’t bother you when it drips sweat onto you after a rousing round of forbidden fucking. The problem with good intentions is they tend to pave the road to Hell. Which is where you are absolutely certain you’ll end up for sleeping with your co-star/television brother/non-single best friend. Because the puppy dog face, with those earnest eyes and those sweet saucer dimples, gets to you. As always.

“…Okay, okay. Stop with the eyes already!” You growl insincerely. You’re laying silently looking at him a second, wanting to get up, to leave, to never see him again just so you won’t have to go through this anymore. Then he smiles, knowing he’s won, and maneuvers you under him so he can be the one on top. “One blow job and that’s it. I mean it, Jay.”

And you do. Honest. Until he kisses you slowly, sensually, making your bones melt into some liquid compound that transcends pleasure. You know you shouldn’t do this, be here, need him like you do. You know, but there’s a part of you that believes he feels the same way even if he’ll never admit it, and that fact sustains you. The other part, the more important part is plain old selfish. He is yours, all yours, and he always will be whether he likes it or not. It doesn’t matter that he refuses to accept it. Words aren’t necessary when it comes to what you share. Action is everything. And his actions? His actions are shouting much louder than words possibly could.


End file.
